Hush
by supernaturalsam
Summary: TAG TO HUNTED The secret is revealed and the Winchester brothers are left reeling from it. Dean wants Sam to understand why he did what he did, but is Sam able to forgive that easily? COMPLETE


**The secret is revealed and the Winchester brothers are left reeling from it. Dean wants Sam to understand why he did what he did, but is Sam able to forgive that easily?**

**This is an episode tag to "Hunted," and before you say it, yes, I know this has also been done a million times before. I did this as a birthday present for my dear friend Mizpah and she suggested I post it for all to enjoy. Spoilers are for "Croatoan" and "Hunted," so you have been warned.**

**I really would appreciate if you could let me know what you think about this. I'm always nervous when it comes to doing tags because I really don't know how everyone is going to respond to them. By the way, I am still working on "Unhinged" so if you want to hound me about getting busy on it, please feel free to do so…it's motivation.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, folks: I own nothing and the odds are pretty good that I never will.**

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Dean Winchester was not one who enjoyed the solitude. He wanted to be in the middle of action, among the crowds. He didn't live a life of seclusion, but now seemed the perfect time to give it a try. After everything that happened last night, Dean figured he could do with some peace and quiet. There were some things he needed to figure out and to be honest, he wasn't going to do that by driving around aimlessly across the country.

Last night scared the hell out of him. He faced the very real possibility of losing Sam and it was almost more than he could take. He was completely ready to lay down his own life, because if he lost Sam he didn't have anything else to live for. Sam was his life; Sam was the reason he had a purpose in his measly life. Without Sam, there was no reason for Dean to go on.

Something still bothered the elder hunter, though. He couldn't figure out how the hell Sam managed to survive that demonic virus, especially when it managed to wipe out an entire town. That wasn't to say he was going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean was damn happy Sam was still alive and he wasn't about to question it. Maybe for once, luck was on their side—good luck that is. God knows they'd had enough bad luck in their lives without adding any more to it.

Dean wanted to put the small town of Rivergrove, Oregon in his rearview mirror, but Sam stopped him when he saw the bridge. After going to a nearby convenience store and grabbing a six-pack, Dean turned around and parked the Impala. They got out and walked over to the wooden fence, each enjoying the quiet the little nook had to offer.

Dean had to admit the scenery was beautiful. Fall was well underway in the small Oregon town and the leaves were bright shades of orange, brown, and red. The oaks overhead shaded the brothers while letting the sunshine filter through, casting a soft glow on the water.

"So…last night. You want to tell me what the hell you were talking about?"

Dean knew Sam would question him about it—it didn't take a genius to figure that out. Sam never was one to forget about anything, but it did surprise Dean it took his younger brother this long to bring it up. Only problem was that Dean didn't really want to talk about it, so he decided to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

Sam scoffed. "What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that wasn't just because of Dad."

Dean gave a slight shake of his head. "Forget it."

"No, I can't. No way."

_Aw, Sammy…_ "Come on, man. I thought we were both going to die. You can't hold that over me."

Sam isn't about to let it go. "No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me. You're talking."

"And what if I don't?"

Sam smiled. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking you until you do."

He would do it, too. Dean knew his brother would. Sam had a very annoying habit of trying to get Dean to talk and he was relentless in his pursuit. Dean shrugged. "I don't know, man. I think maybe we just ought to…go to the Grand Canyon."

Sam let out a chuckle, completely caught off-guard. "What?"

"Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across the country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J…or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsay Lohan."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You're not making any sense."

"I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?"

"Why are you saying all this?"

_Because you deserve so much more. Because you deserve to live your life a little bit before…_Dean shook his head and turned away. He couldn't do this. He thought he could talk to Sam about this, but he couldn't. How did he ever think he would be able to?

Sam jumped down from the fence railing. "No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit."

_I want to let you help so bad, Sammy, but I can't. _"I can't. I promised."

"Who?"

"Dad." Dean's voice is just above a whisper.

Sam's brows frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Dean looked down. _God, I can't do this. Why do you have to keep pushing it, Sammy?_ "Right before Dad died, he told me something." Dean took a deep breath and looked up at Sam. "He told me something about you." _Something I've wanted to tell you for so long…_

"What?" The fear is evident in Sam's voice. "Dean, what did he tell you?"

"He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you."

Sam let out a relieved huff. "He told you that a million times."

Dean shook his head. "No, this time was different." He looked up at Sam, his gaze unwavering. "He said that I had to save you."

"Save me from what?" The fear was back, this time tinged with something else Dean couldn't quite decipher.

"He said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered. And that if I couldn't, I'd…"

"You'd what, Dean?"

_Please don't make me say this. Maybe if I don't tell you, then it won't be real. I won't have to do it…we can pretend none of this ever happened. _Dean swallowed hard. "That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy." Dean heard his voice crack.

Sam looked at Dean, horrified and hurt. "Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know," he said softly.

"I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right?" Sam doesn't give Dean time to answer as he launched into more questions, his voice growing in pitch with each one. "Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?"

"Nothing, that's it, I swear." Dean can barely stand to look at Sam. To see the hurt on his face—hurt that he caused.

"How could you have not told me this?"

"Because it was Dad, and he begged me to," Dean said, as if that would explain everything. After all, they lived a life where what their dad said was the rule. There was no talking back, no arguing, no going against what the Winchester patriarch said.

Sam isn't going to hear any of it. "Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

No, Sam wasn't going to get to put this on him. Dean wasn't about to let his brother blame him for all this. He could be pissed, yes, but Dean would not take all the blame. "You think I wanted this? Huh?" Dean's voice grew louder. "I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth! Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!"

Sam shook his head and stepped away. Dean could see he was fuming and it was taking everything the kid had to maintain control over it.

"We've just got to figure out what's going on, then, what the hell all this means," Sam said.

"We do?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure—"

Sam turned on Dean, his arms spread wide. "What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?"

_Okay, the wrong thing to say…_"I never said that."

"Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean."

Dean knew Sam was trying to bait him, but the elder hunter wasn't going to have any part of it. "I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control! All right? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore! And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"

Sam shook his head. "No way."

Sam was going to make him do it—his brother was going to make him beg. But dammit, Dean was willing to do anything at that point, if it meant Sam would listen to him and let him figure out some sort of plan. "Sam, please, man."

Sam began to turn away.

"Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please."

Sam looked at Dean and for one second, Dean was scared his brother was going to argue with him further. Instead, his brother reluctantly nodded his head and it was all Dean needed. Sam was going to let him find a way around this, find a way to get them out of this mess.

Dean let out a sigh and took a long sip from his beer. The alcohol was quickly losing its flavor and it was doing nothing to dull the ache in his chest. He couldn't stand for Sam to be angry at him, but he knew he couldn't blame the kid either. Hell, Sam was handling the news a lot better than Dean would. If the roles were reversed, Dean couldn't be sure he wouldn't have left Sam's ass already.

"I figure we could head east, maybe drive towards Wyoming and hole up for the night," Dean said.

"Whatever." Sam finished his beer and tossing his bottle into a trashcan, walked to the Impala without another word. He got into the passenger seat and crossed his arms over his chest, his brooding officially underway.

Dean didn't want to laugh at Sam, but he was looking like a petulant child right now. When the younger Winchester was pissed, he was a man of few words. Was this what he did to Sam when he was pissed at something his little brother did? How in the world was it that Sam didn't knock the crap out of him on a daily basis?

Dean threw out the remainder of his beer and climbed into the seat next to Sam. He looked over at the young man for a few seconds before turning the ignition over and gliding the black classic down the road.

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Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry at his brother. How was it that Dean could keep something like this from him? Sam didn't expect much out of his older sibling, but he did expect Dean to be honest with him. If Sam couldn't trust Dean, then what did that say for the rest of the world? He looked to for guidance, for support, but it was almost as if that support was crumbling before his very eyes.

He knew Dean was loyal to their dad, he'd always been. While Sam had been the argumentative, stubborn Winchester son, Dean had been the one who would always do what their dad asked of them. But this was different. This was something that affected Sam on such a big level that he should have known about it from the very beginning. Dean was carrying around this secret for the last few months and he had every opportunity in the world to tell Sam about it.

The only good thing about this was that it explained Dean's erratic, withdrawn behavior. He'd had to wrestle with this burden all this time and Sam couldn't help but feel a little bit of pity for his sibling. But it still didn't excuse Dean from it. He could have released that burden long ago, but he'd chosen to keep it within him.

Sam couldn't help but be pissed at Dean and why shouldn't he be? This was not something you just sprung on a person and expect them to be okay with it. But Sam found he was also angry at his father—he couldn't let Dean take all the blame for this. John told Dean he may have to kill his own brother, his own flesh and blood. What kind of father says that to his son? What kind of father tells his child he may have to kill the boy he'd had such a hand in raising, shaping, molding?

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam barely glanced over at Dean before focusing his attention on the passing foliage once more. "You know the answer to that, Dean."

"Sam, I don't blame you for being angry at me, but you have to understand why I did what I did."

"Don't tell me it was to protect me, Dean, because that's a bunch of crap and you know it." Sam looked over at his brother and let out a small sigh. "The truth is Dean, I'm really not even mad at you. I'm mad at the whole situation. I'm mad at Dad for laying this on you and I'm mad at Dad for not having the nerve to tell me about it in the first place."

"He thought he was protecting you, Sammy," Dean said, softly.

"And that's another thing, Dean. I'm mad that you keep defending the man and making excuses for him. I'm tired of the two of you always thinking you need to protect me. In case you haven't noticed, I can take care of myself. I did it the entire time I was at Stanford and I can do it now."

Dean shook his head. "Sam, I'm always going to do my best to protect you. Nothing's ever going to change that and it's something you're going to have to get over." He looked pointedly at Sam. "Don't tell me I'm always defending Dad, Sam, because I'm not. What he did—not telling us about this, it sucked. And then him laying it on top of me right before he died, I'm pissed at him. He knew exactly what he was doing when he did it."

Sam nodded, but remained silent.

"But then I have to think he did it for a reason. He didn't tell us because he wanted to make sure he had all the facts straight. Dad would never have told me this if he didn't check every available option first. You believe that, don't you?"

"I guess."

"Sammy, you know I'm going to do everything in my power to keep this from happening. There is just no way I'm going to let anything happen to you. I'm not going to let you go darkside or whatever and I'm not going kill you."

"What if you don't have a choice?" Sam asked softly.

"You always have a choice, Sammy." Dean said it softly, but Sam heard the quiet conviction in his brother's voice. Sam knew right then and there Dean would do everything in his power to save him. But at the same time, Sam knew his brother couldn't protect him forever.

Dean wasn't a superhero, though Sam spent most of his life thinking his older brother to be just that. Dean wouldn't be able to save him from everything, he was just one person. No, Sam needed to take some steps himself. He needed to seek out the answers he was looking for…without his big brother.

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Around eight that night, Dean finally pulled into the Velvet Inn, a cheap motel right outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming. Killing the engine, he looked over at his brother. "We'll stay here for the night, see if maybe Ellen has a hunt for us."

"I thought you wanted to take a break from hunting."

"I'm not going to go out of my way to find one, but if she has one we'll take it."

"All right." Sam pushed open the door. "I'll go get us a room." He was out and already opening the door to the office before Dean could stop him.

After getting them a room for the night, Sam came out fifteen minutes later and got back in the Impala, showing the key to Dean. "We're in room eight."

Dean didn't say anything as he backed up the car and drove to their room. Putting the car in park, he and Sam got out and retrieved their bags from the trunk. Sam unlocked the door to their room and the brothers entered without a word.

"I'm gonna go ahead and hit the shower. After I'm finished we can go see if we can find something to eat."

Sam nodded as he moved over to his bed and sat down on the edge.

Dean grabbed some clothes out of his duffel and looked over at Sam, concern written all over his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said softly then flashed Dean a small smile. "I'm okay."

Dean didn't seem convinced, but he shrugged anyway and entered the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. Sam remained on the bed until he heard the shower start and the soft strains of Lynyrd Skynyrd's _Freebird_ coming from behind the door.

If Sam was going to do this, he had to do it now. He knew there was no way he could sneak off while Dean was asleep. While Dean was a heavy sleeper most of the time, when it concerned Sam it was a different story. Every time Sam had a nightmare, Dean was awake. When Sam was sick, Dean was awake. So if Sam snuck off in the middle of the night, Dean would be awake.

Grabbing his duffel bag from his bed, Sam grabbed a small stationary pad from the drawer and scribbled Dean a quick note: _Don't worry about me…I'll check in with you soon._

Placing the note on Dean's bed, Sam quietly slipped out into the rain-drenched night. Knowing he very well couldn't take Dean's car, he darted his eyes around, searching to see if anyone was watching him. Seeing no one, he went to a small car sitting beside the Impala and jimmied the lock.

Slipping into the car, Sam took off into the night hoping to find the answers he so desperately needed.

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"Hey, Sam…I was thinking we could hit that little diner we passed a few blocks away from here."

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, the steam from the shower following him like a billowing cloud. Rubbing the towel over his damp hair, he frowned when Sam didn't answer him. "Did you hear me, Sammy?"

The elder hunter's frown deepened when he finally looked up and saw that Sam was nowhere to be seen. "Sam?"

"All right, Dean—don't panic." There could be a very good reason why Sam wasn't where Dean left him only twenty minutes ago. He could be out for a walk, trying to clear his head. After all the crap Dean laid on him, Sam probably needed some time to himself to digest everything and Dean really couldn't blame his kid brother for it.

Looking to the side of Sam's bed, Dean didn't see his sibling's duffel bag. In fact, he didn't see it lying around anywhere. If Sam just went for a walk, then why the hell did he take his travel bag with him? "That's because he didn't go for a walk, you dumbass."

Throwing down his towel and pulling on a t-shirt, Dean hurried to the door and flung it open. The Impala was still there, shining in all her gleaming beauty in the pale moonlight. But wasn't there another car there when they pulled in? Dean wracked his brain, trying to remember finally recollecting indeed there was a small early model car. _I'm seriously going to have a talk with Sam about stealing cars…_

Shutting the door, Dean rubbed his hands through his short hair, feeling frustrated. He didn't know if he could deal with this now. Was he pushing his brother away when right now, more than anything, they needed to stick together? How was he supposed to protect Sam if he couldn't even manage to keep the younger man in the motel room? What if something happened to Sam and he wasn't there to stop it.

He'd always told Sam he would be there to protect him, ever since that night Sam had been placed in his arms all those years ago. Was it going to be like this now? Was Sam going to trust him anymore? Dean couldn't handle that; he couldn't handle the possibility of Sam never believing in him again.

Letting out a sigh, Dean finally noticed the small sheet of paper lying on his bed. He grabbed it up in two strides and immediately felt anger coursing through his body. _"Don't worry about me…I'll check in with you soon."_

"Son of a bitch!"

Crumbling up the note, Dean dug his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed Sam's number. It rang five times before Sam's voicemail picked up. _"This is Sam…Leave me a message."_

"I'll leave you a damn message all right, Sam. Why the hell did you leave, huh? And what the hell kind of note was that? Did you think I would be okay with it? Did you? I swear to God, Sammy, when I get my hands on you I'm going to kick your ass, you hear me?"

Dean hung up the phone and let out a guttural cry. Grabbing up his jacket and slipping it on, he seized his duffel and weapons bag from his bed. Throwing them into the Impala, he had Ellen's number dialed before he could even pull out of the motel parking lot.

"_Harvelle's Roadhouse."_

"Ellen, it's me."

"_Dean, how are ya, sweetie?"_

"Listen, I think Sammy may be headed your way."

"_Why? Did you boys have a fight?"_

"Not exactly," Dean hedged, not really wanting to get into it with the woman barkeep. "Listen, if he shows up, you call me okay?"

"_Dean, is everything okay?"_

"I hope so, Ellen." Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "You'll call me?"

"_Sure, honey."_

"Thanks." Dean hung up the phone and as he pulled out onto the highway, he dialed Sam's number again. Once again, his brother's phone went to voicemail. _"This is Sam…Leave me a message."_

"Sammy…look man, I'm sorry. I know you're upset with me, and I don't blame you—not even a little bit. I just need you to let me know you're safe, that you're okay. I want to help you, Sammy, I do. I just…" He let out a deep breath. "Call me when you get a chance, okay?"

Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, Dean pressed down on the gas, his thoughts remaining on his brother.


End file.
